


luster

by nervousbakedown



Series: pod save poetry [3]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, POV First Person, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousbakedown/pseuds/nervousbakedown
Summary: on this overcast day i am struck by the grey stripes at his temples, at the flecks in his dark hair that match the sky.





	luster

on this overcast day i am struck by the grey stripes at his temples, at the flecks in his dark hair that match the sky. what are they doing there? blame it on a trick of light, because he is still twenty-five, and i am still twenty-six. we are both still living on idealism and credit cards and large coffees from the dunkin’ donuts across the street. there’s still a war happening outside the window and i still follow him into it every day. 

he turns to me and says my name, elongating the last vowel. see? nothing has changed. he still has sincere brown eyes and a gap between his front teeth. he still tilts his head when he smiles and says he wants to show me something.

i go to his side and i’m struck by etched lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. i recoil from him, the chain linking us goes unexpectedly taut. those wrinkles must be another trick. where is the sun?

there’s a small window in the bathroom where i look into the mirror. i turn the light on and turn it off. i still have these forehead wrinkles and tired eyes. my hair isn’t thick anymore but i thought i was still twenty-six? no, i am thirty. the man waiting for me outside is still twenty-nine. 

the cloud-blocked sun casts a haze as i drive us across town. he speaks to me softly and i reply like always, only this time i have to fight off the haze, the question of how old am i and how old are you and are we still on a campaign?

we’d planned to go to a bar but instead i take two extra left turns and drive us to the beach. surely the sun is out there, and i won’t have to see the grey anymore, and he won’t have to see mine. i park the car and i don’t wait for him before running to the sand and down to the shoreline.

he shouts at me as i stare up into the sky looking for the sun. i search the lifeless swirls of clouds until he grabs my shoulders and resets me, pulls me toward him. he still has those sincere brown eyes so i feel safe asking how old are you and how old am i and is this going to end soon?

he tells me i’m forty-five and he’s forty-four and that the sun will come out tomorrow. he puts his arm around my shoulders and walks me to the car, like he did when i was a wreck seventeen years ago, like he did last week. an anchor, my anchor. i buckle my seatbelt and watch him start the car engine.

tomorrow we’ll sit side by side and fight in the war once again. he’ll still say my name and i’ll answer. i’ll look over his shoulder while he shows me another new idea. i will see the grey in his hair, but, this time and every time after, it will be beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> doesn't tommy strike you as someone who's already had multiple crises about aging lol


End file.
